Previously on the Wrath of Five:
District 13:
Kristoff has arrived severely injured with a girl that is not Anna. He tells Lt. Calhoun that 'Man-in-the-Moon', a Rebellion leader based in Panem's Districts, is dead.
Other than that, nothing is up much with our heroes here:
-Merida's still has issues with guns, despite being an excellent sharp shooter.
-Ralph is still in special forces, and happened to be hospital duty at a certain patient's ward (coughs).
-Hiro is working on a programme that may turn the tide of the Rebellion – if his health doesn't kill him first.
-Hiccup and Toothless are adjusting find in the Dragon Sanctuary, but his superior, Valka Vogstein, has issues with none other than President Bludvist himself.
-Elsa has agreed to be the 'Snow Queen', a figurehead for the Rebellion, in exchange for Anna being brought safety to the District ASAP. Naturally, Calhoun hasn't told her about Kristoff.
Elsewhere in Panem:
District 5: Since Chapter 10, all we know so far is that Elinor has been quietly abducted from the District while Fergus Dunbroch has led his district into a full-fledged offensive on the Capitol.
District 10: Nicholas St. North is dead. Bunnymund is on the run with Emma and Mrs. Overland, who seems to display a rather curious skill-set, involving but not limited to constructing firearms.
And now we go to the Capitol, where Flynn, with his new revelation on Rapunzel's possible survival, is taking steps…
~~~0~~~
Capitol
Ministerial House
Drawn were the curtain. Locked were the doors. The room had been checked not once, not twice, but three times for recording devices of any kinds, but that didn't mean there was no risk. The Capitol hauled up the latest technology for a strategic reason that neither company had intentions of falling prey too.
"There had better be a good reason for all this, Rider," the politician sitting behind the desk groused. "I don't exactly enjoy being told to give my staff a day off and clear my schedule for fun."
"You'll thank me once it's over." Eugene was quite unfazed by Minister Corona's less-than-enthused manner. He sat down on his seat, eyes darting back and forth. Finally, he asked, "What do you know of healing serums?"
One bushy brow on the minister's face was raised. "Serums? You're here to talk about cosmetics with me?"
"Not the beauty-products." He shook his head. "I mean actually healing serums. Immortality pills. Panaceas."
Slowly, the expression on Minister Corona's face morphed into one of intrigue. "A cure for all ills? Hmm." He rubbed the bottom of his bearded chin. "Well, there've always been rumours that the President had been funding research for such, but as far as anyone knows, they haven't been successful. He might have aged pretty well, but the President's still aging. Everyone knows that whether he likes it or not, one day he'll have to choose a successor."
"Yes, I'm sure Lotso loves the idea of passing his power to someone else," Eugene murmured dryly to himself, before addressing the minister once again. "A tidbit of intel has been made known to me that that the panacea might be soon made a reality – and in such excess, such that some will even be made available for the military."
"That's impossible," the Minister began, before he promptly stopped. He then narrowed his eyes down to the young man seated across him, a peculiar mien painted up the contours of his haggard countenance. "What do mean 'a tidbit of intel'?"
Eugene went silent.
That however in itself was an answer, for the politician then drew back, horror etched over his features. "You're part of the rebellion, aren't you?"
"Don't questions if you don't want to know the answers, sir," was the curt reply. He folded his arms pointedly.
Clearing his throat, the Minister glanced uneasily about the empty room. "So, this bit of inte- I mean, information that you've gotten – what interest do I have in it?"
"You and I both know of a certain something, or should I say, someone who could be the source of such a healing serum."
Minister Corona squinted incredulously at him as the implication hit him. "You surely don't mean-"
Eugene nodded.
"But that would mean that she-" he didn't dare finish the sentence, as if saying it would dash all chances of it being true. He then shook his head sharply. "No, it's impossible."
"No, it makes perfect sense," the younger man argued. "It's hardly a secret that Lotso would live forever if he could, so why would he kill his only opportunity of doing so? Don't you see?" He dragged his chair forward, body leaning front. "It makes more sense for her to be alive than not."
"You're assuming that it isn't just her, well, body that's their studying." The older fellow was quite ill-at-ease to describe the girl in question in this manner.
"I doubt they'd risk killing her. Her power might be dependent on her being alive, after all," Eugene mused, rising from the seat as he began pacing across the room. "But they'd have to keep her secure, so that she can't escape. And she'd definitely to tried to escape. At least-" he frowned deeply "-until the consequences catch up with her."
"But, if she has been alive, all this time-" the Minister's eyes widened "-she would have been held captive for over-"
"Eight months." He stopped at his tracks, frozen by this terrifying revelation. "Eight whole months a prisoner of the Capitol."
Both men went absolutely quiet, with the older massaging his temples, elbow rested against the desk, while the younger scratched his goatee in silent thought.
Eventually, the lull was broken by Eugene declaring, "We have to get her out. Who knows what they're doing to her." And 'they' being the Capitol granted them zero optimism in his book.
"If she's still alive at this point," the Minister supplied gravely as he rubbed his forehead. "Who can say for sure at this point?"
"The tip I got was recent news. If the healing serum has yet to be created, then she'll have to alive. Definitely." Eugene rolled his shoulders back uncomfortably. "She just mightn't be the same."
He sat himself back down the chair once again, gazing at the brooding minister. "Look, sir, if she's alive, I'll get her out. But I need to find her first. So if you know anything – anything – that could make my job easier, I need you to tell me."
Minister Corona didn't reply at once, shoving himself off his feet. He let out a deep sigh as he dragged his feet towards the covered window. Eugene couldn't see his expression from this angle, so he leaned forward a little, trying to get a better view.
The politician then broke the silence. "You're going to tell whatever I tell you to the Rebellion, aren't you?"
"I'm not going to deny or confirm whatever you've said."
The Minister hesitated, slowly towards him. In a low voice, he said, "You know that the Capitol keeps a large number of its prisoners in the Undergrounds, right?"
Eugene nodded.
"There's a special department that they have called the 'Butterfly Room', designated for the most sort of revolutionary research. It's one of the most highly guarded facilities in all of the Capitol. Getting passes in there is nearly impossible."
The younger man nodded. He had heard of it from his various 'patrons', but never managed to learn the kind of things that happened down there.
"I only know of the lab's existence because I once had a colleague who was assigned in that department. An intelligent fellow, working with som dangerous chemistry research. He-" the Minister began fiddling with the golden sun medallion that hung over his chest "-he saved my wife's life, and my daughter's, but paid bitterly for it." There was a note of guilt in that.
Eugene only lifted his brows in surprise.
Minister Corona let go off the medallion, pulling back the chair as he sat himself down again. "Arianna had a difficult pregnancy. As a result, it was almost certain that we would lose the child, or-" he let out a long exhale "-or I'd lose her. At that point, we were desperate enough to try anything. And when this colleague of mine heard of it, he produced this strange drug - he asked Arianna to drink it. What we didn't know at the time was that the drug was highly classified substance from his workplace."
"The Butterfly Room," Eugene guessed.
"Yes." The older man shut his eyes and the side of his head once again. "Obviously, he wasn't supposed take such a substance out of the lab, much less give it to anyone. But because of that, Arianna's health improved and our daughter – our little girl – she lived."
"And they took her away after that."
"Yes." It was clear that this tale brought him much pain. "The Capitol seems to have a particular fondness for taking things from me – my friend, and then my daughter." His tone was full of bitterness.
"Hmm." The younger man had a wry smile on his face. "With that talk like that, sir, I'm starting wonder if you're part of the Rebellion yourself."
Minister Corona shot him a dark look, before grabbing a small slip of paper from his desk and scribbling down something. He handed it over to Eugene, who read it quietly.
'The Eden Project,' was what it said.
"If you can find out what happened to that project, you might be able to find out what happened to her. It's not much, but it might give you some place to start."
"I'll look into it," Eugene promised, rising from his seat and tucking the slip of paper in his pocket. He shook the older man's hand. "Thank you, sir."
The Minister said nothing in return, merely heading back towards the covered window. The younger man took it as his cue to leave, and he did, eager to get back to work. With the company gone, Minister Corona drew back the curtains and sighed as he gazed over out of the Silver City; the flickering lights, the dazzling displays, the hordes of colourful people.
And somewhere – somewhere below it, his little girl was trapped, held captive by his masters, and there was nothing he could do.
So he prayed to whatever gods there might be that it would not be too late, before heading out of his office to the drawing room, where his wife was doing her reading as usual.
He said nothing to her; no words of hope, no platitudes of comfort. She had born quietly with the pain over the years, and any promises that he couldn't guarantee would be as kind as twisting a knife in her chest.
So he spoke nothing, just sat by her side and began reading his own leather-bound volume.
~~~0~~~
Capitol Undergrounds
Butterfly Room
If evil had a face, she would know it.
For evil shied from the sun, from the light. It dwelled the sewers, the gutters, the darkest recesses of the human mind. It feasted on shame and humiliation, thriving on agony and despair. Evil donned itself in cold white uniforms and shady blue masks, hiding its piercing eyes under reflective goggles. Its claws were not hidden behind sterilised rubber gloves, nor the bite of its teeth hidden under the rubber tubes and the metal cuffs. It bound her in ropes of hopeless and choked her with the bitterness of her own tears. It had gnawed her from the insides for so long that she was but a hollow shell, where evil's song would sing and hum, and hiss, "Flower gleam and glow,-"
In the silence, she often heard things.
In silence, she often was, these days. For silence was her constant companion in her daily walks around her cylindrical cell. She would tell silence hello, and silence would say naught, and then she would ask silence how do you do, and silence would echo her back her words in a manner only describable as ugly and wrought.
Somethings, the silence would give her things to play with, like ghostly figments that would hover over her and follow her around on her daily walks. Sometimes they would tell her things, about people beyond the walls, about people whose names she had forgotten and faces that she had could barely recall. They would tell her to hold on, to wait, to hope. Then on others days, they would tell her how everyone has forgotten her, or that no one has forgotten her because they had never known her, and she was alone.
She was alone.
All alone.
With her ghosts, and her silence, and … evil.
It watched.
It waited.
It was a predator, camouflaged in the dark, prowling about.
It didn't have to watch. It didn't have to wait. But it did. Because it wanted to.
It wanted to see her break.
It wanted to see her shatter.
It wanted to see her succumb into the loneliness, not realising that she had already been consumed and that it was just prowling after an empty shell.
"-Need another sample-"
"-healing factor has been on steady decline. We can't figure out-"
"Flower, gleam and glow-"
"-trial 232, patient has not responded well to 1mmg dose of iron argonite. Proceed to trial 233-"
"-let your power shine-"
But there was no power where there was no light. Because there was no light when there was dark. And when there was dark, evil was always there.
"Hello?"
What was that?
"Hello, is there anyone there?"
That was a new voice – at least, it sounded like that to her. She had to admit her skills of recognition had been on a steady deteriorate.
"Hello," she answered at last. Her voice was soft and coarse, her jaw moving against each other with the silkiness of sand paper. "How do you do?"
"Oh, there's someone there!" The voice sounded very relieved. It was light, feminine and youthful, marred only by fear and trembling. "Well, it's good not to be alone."
She merely shrugged, or at least, shrugged as much as her bindings allowed her too. The doctors who had fastened her to the bed had taken to being very judicious in how they tied her up, especially when she was taken out of the cell, like she was right now. But then, since it was just one of those imaginary voices in her head, she reckoned that this visiting figment would know that she was shrugging anyway. "That depends. Sometimes the company can terrible."
"Oh, I won't be bad company. I promise." The voice echoing around the dark medical centre sounded like it was pleading. "Just – just keep talking to me, please?"
She stared up to the black ceiling, listening to the hum of the machines in the distance. If she closed her eyes and focused, she'd be able to hear the screams. So she didn't close her eyes, continued staring up ahead and said to her imaginary companion, "Okay."
"T-thank you," the other voice blubbered gratefully. It sounded as if it had been crying. "It – it feels like ages since I've talked to anyone, you know?"
She didn't really have anything to say, because sometimes having no one to talk to was much better than having someone who always stuck around saying horrid, cruel things to her. She wondered if her new little friend knew that.
"We're at the Capitol, aren't we?" the floating voice whimpered, sniffing a little. "I'd thought it'd be prettier. I mean, on TV, it was always so bright and shiny." It sniffed again. "But since I've got here, all I see are just-just white walls-" sniff "-and masked people-" sniff "-and needles. So many needles." She could even pretend to hear her invisible companion shuddering.
"You'll get used to it," she tried to console the disembodied voice. It felt a little silly, comforting herself, but it was a bit better than yelling and screaming at herself. "I've been here much longer, and I'm alright. I think I've got-" she tried to squint at her in the darkness "-twenty needles stuck in me, I think, and four tubes. It doesn't feel so bad."
"Oh, okay," the distant voice sounded a little subdued, and maybe a little less frightened. She heard a throat clearing, before the quiet voice asked her, "My name's Anna, by the way."
"Oh." This was the first time any of her funny visitors had provided themselves a name. She was usually the one who had to give them one, like 'Ugly Face', or 'Wolf Head', or 'Lady with Curly Black Hair', or 'Snake Man'. "Hello Anna."
"What about you? What's your name?"
She swallowed hard, scrunching her face up as she tried to remember. At last, she said, "I think it's some kind of flower, but I can't remember what it is."
"You can't remember?" The voice sounded shocked, then sad. "That's awful. I'm so sorry about that."
"It's okay," she answered lightly. "I don't really need it that much."
"Well, you can't go without a name," her formless friend told her, astounded by her nonchalant dismissal. "What do they call you around here?"
She paused, her forehead wrinkling as she struggled to remember. At last, she said, slowly, "They refer to me as Eden Project 2.0."
She heard the voice humming a little, as if in thought. "Well, how 'bout I call you Eden till you can remember your real name, huh?"
She was a little surprised by this odd suggestion. "Oh. Okay."
There was silence for a while, as she continued to stared listless up in darkness. For so long, she had already lost sense of time. She knew at some point the masked people will return for her, to stabbed more things into her body or pull the threads of her very long, very yellow hair, but when that would be, she didn't know.
"Eden?" the voice, timid, disrupted her thoughts.
Admittedly, she was surprised to hear the voice again. After the lull, she had thought that this friend had made its departure. "Yes?"
"Do you have any idea why they brought me here?"
She, who apparently now dubbed Eden, wrinkled her nose. "Well, I don't know. But I guess if you're here, maybe they want something from you?" She didn't know what was the point of continuing this conversation, since her anxious little visitor wasn't really here, so clearly the doctors here wouldn't care about it because, well, it didn't exist.
The voice that had called itself 'Anna' did seem to like this answer. "What could they possibly want? I mean, I don't have very much."
"Well, maybe you have a talent, or information," Eden offered blandly. She was honestly getting quite tired – probably something to do with the drugs entering her system. They did pump an awful lot of them in her, and those drugs often had some funny effects. "Or maybe they just want to torture you for fun."
"Torture? For fun?" Anna whispered, sounding thoroughly horrified.
"Don't worry. They don't do that very often," she assured her fictitious companion, her eyes drawing shut. "Keeping prisoners here is pretty expensive, so they never keep anyone who isn't worth their time. It's some kind of-" she let out a long yawn, instinctively trying to stretch herself and being unable to because the straps holding her down "-investment, you know, when you keep someone alive."
"Wait." Her figmental companion was audibly distressed, if her long-drawn gasp was anything to go by. "So you mean … they'll kill me if there's no use for me?"
"Yep." She smacked her lips together, relaxing her weight against the tense operating table under her. "I'm sorry, Anna, but I'm really tired, so I can't talk to you anymore."
"What? No! Wait!" The voice in her ear was frantic, but she was exhausted. The chemicals in veins were making her drowsy and the blackness dancing behind her eyelids was already starting to swallow her in, lifting her into a haze. "Please don't leave me alone! I-I-I need know! How can I keep them from killing me? I don't want to die! Please, please, please Eden!" The voice was begging so hard that it almost sounded real. "Tell me what to do!"
"T-there'ssszzz-" her words were slurring as her mind began to shut down "-nothhhhinnngg you can-"
And unconsciousness flooded over her.
"Eden?"
Silence answered.
"Eden?" A tad more frantic.
Silence continued its song.
The owner of the voice whispered a small 'oh', before sinking back to the bed that she had been strapped in. The void of light frightened her, and she didn't like how the binds held her in place. She didn't like the emptiness of silence, and she didn't like the weight of evil pressing down on her.
But the thing was, silence didn't care if she hated its company, and evil didn't care if she hated its oppression. Because she was just a small, weak girl from District 12, and she had no idea what to do and she was scared. Just really, really scared.
When she wept in the darkness, silence listened.
And evil? Oh, evil was having a field day.
~~~0~~~
It was a very simple trade, actually. Jack did whatever he was told, and they would let him sleep. He did something new, and they would let him eat. If he did neither, very simply, he would be deprived of those two commodities.
At the start, it had been easy to figure new skills. He had worked out to how to change a shower of snow into hail, which had earned him a measly piece of brown bread. Then, he had worked out how to control the intensity of wind-bursts that he made, earned him a bowl of unseasoned cabbage soup. When he proved that he could fly at will, that earned him his first taste of meat.
But with time, the learning curve grew steeper. The variety of skills he could display narrowed rapidly, and so did his waistline. To be fair though, he was not malnutritioned – they didn't want that of their lab rat to starve on them. No, they would feed him, through a horrible tube that fit down his nose, and with that tube, they'd pour in the gooey mush of sustenance right down. The thing about it, however, was that they couldn't keep the tube down him – nope, his natural body temperature would freeze it down. Which meant that every time they fed him in such a method, they had to strap him down and stick the tube through his nose and down his gullet, then after they've dumped in his nutrients, they had to remove the tube. It wasn't painful - not exactly. It was just very uncomfortable, like swallowing a ball of barb wire.
He hadn't tasted food in his mouth for the last two weeks, despite having a perfectly working jaw.
As he wandered aimlessly around the ice-laced dome that was his enclosure, he knew that he was being actively watched. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were watching his every move, waiting for him to do something new.
He didn't have anything new though, so, deciding that he might as well enjoy himself whilst out of the narrow, water-filled case that was his usual residence, decided to practice making icicles on the wall.
As it turned out, he wasn't very good at it. Don't get him wrong; he could make icicles, dozens of them in fact, with the sheer force of his mind, but he didn't know how to make them individually, nor how to design each icicles precisely to what his mind imagined. The powers that pulsed under his skin – it seemed to have a mind of its own. He could start it, stop it, direct it sometimes, but he couldn't tell it how it should manifest itself. If the icicle decided to extend itself into a full on stalagmite however, he couldn't stop it, and a part of him even felt that trying to stop it was … wrong.
It was like last time, his 'tamer' of the day had shown him a geometric shape and told him, "Make a snowflake with exactly this shape."
He couldn't. He could make a million snowflakes snow down with the flick of his wrist, but he couldn't intentionally craft something like that. Needlessly to say, he had no sleep that night. Day. Whatever it was. He couldn't really tell.
He knew that they hated the lack of precision in his powers. He wasn't a fool. He knew that those people in their white coats and white masks had a goal, and their goal involved controlling him, and it was pretty difficult to control someone who had issues controlling themselves.
"Weak."
Jack's head jerked up, a rapid chill suddenly running over his skin. The spherical enclosure around him had melded into crystal-cut walls, the lights suddenly dimming. He was no longer standing, but his knees. And the reason for his position came in the form of thick chain, made entirely of ice. Something tightened the chain, making him gag as he was dragged forward. Mocking blue eyes peered down at him behind their long lashes, before he felt a hard blow across his face. He gasped as the heat of strike spread from flesh into bone.
"You're weak," his captor sneered at him. "You are nothing."
Another blow came up his stomach. He groaned, clutching the wounded area.
"You can't even do the one simple thing I asked of you," she hissed at him, her cold voice sending shivers all the way into his heart, rattling its fragile walls. "Useless little worm." She brought the heel of her pointed shoe down on his hand, ignoring his yelp of pain as she snarled, "The task I had given you had better be completed by the time I return, or else-"
She released his hand, and he was weeping as he cradled his bleeding palm. Under her burning gaze, he felt so small, so helpless just as she had said. Yet, humiliation and agony gave rise to another. He could feel something bubbling – strong, fierce, dark. He stared at the back of her intricately ornamented blonde head, and the desire to crack her skull had never had such appeal.
He stretched out his uninjured hand towards her and screamed.
White light came first, sparkling and cracking with energy. Within it thrummed cold, beating frosty hate and icy loathing. Snow flew everywhere around him. Ice swarmed about, swerving to his needs. The wind had morphed into a gust, intent on smashing itself down on any that there to stand on its way.
It was only then that he had realised that the crystal walls, and with them, the haughty queen. Instead, he stood in the center of his spherical enclosure, with half the walls tumbling down and the other half having been ripped into ribbons. He hadn't realised when he had started breathing heavily and quickly, but he had, and he clutched against his chest, against the scars of the sutures and the heart thumping behind them.
"A force of nature."
He whipped himself around, and found himself staring up at the viewing point of his enclosure, which had previously been hidden under a series of tampered glass. There, amongst the researchers stood the Man in the Black Cloak. He was gazing back down on Jack, right down his sharp nose, his brows furrowed together.
Eventually, the tall, thin man ordered his subordinates, "Return him to his cell."
Instantly, fury replaced the confusion. Jack gritted his teeth together as armed operatives came pouring through the entrance, the barrels of their slotted guns pointing at him. He barely needed to think before a thunderous crack of air slammed against their armoured bodies, slamming their heads against the peeling walls. With a twist of his palm, he shot a sharp shower of ice towards the next squad that came rushing in, making the victims of his assault screech when their skin was slathered with crimson scratches. His wiry arms stretched forward towards the doorway and he formed a torrent, blasting away any other who dared come his way. His gaze went up to the glass observation deck, from the alarmed expressions of the researchers to the cool visage of the man in the dark cloak.
Using a barrage of snow to seal off entrance to his enclosure, the boy with white hair shot himself up the ground, throwing the full force of his body against the glass. Immediately, his body bounced back and he grimaced as he felt his shoulder began to bruise. Those scientists – his tormentors – lying on the other side, looked relieved for a brief moment of time. That was until, he got an idea.
Still hovering in the air, he flew himself back just a little and unleashed a burst after burst of white-energy.
CRACK! There ran one fissure up the transparent pane.
CRACK! There ran the fracture through the width of the window.
He could hear the steps of the fleeing researchers, and that only fueled his wrath. Cowards.
The glass shattered suddenly under the pressure and he plopped himself down in the lab, ignoring how the shards cut his feet. Computers, holo-screens, charts – they were all covered by a veneer of ice, thickening by the second. He sniffed contemptuously as he eyed the remaining escapees, considering chasing after them when he saw that there was one who was not fleeing the lab.
The man in the black cloak.
His thin, grey face bore no fear, just curiosity and even amusement, and Jack seethed at that. It was as if the man was just a spectator watching an animal – a caged animal – with the assurance that he himself was in no danger.
Presumptuous old fool. For that, he will die.
Jaw tightened, Jack raised his hand towards the leader of his tormentors, hatred and detestation spiking to whole new heights as the storm around raged and his hands crackled with energy.
And then the man finally spoke. It was a word. Just one word.
And just like that, the winter suddenly departed him and he was scratching against his chest, having tumbled to his knees. His body felt oddly frozen and he suddenly felt horrendous cold. His vision blurred as his muscles turned flaccid, and when his body slumped forward, he felt his cheek resting once again on a clear crystal floor. The chain around his neck was choking him and he groaned as he pushed himself off the ground.
He was back again, inside the large crystal room, trapped by his binds of ice and the horrible chill nestling in the core of his chest. His breath misted in the air as he tried to orientate himself.
"Weak," her mocking voice echoed through the hexagonal hall. A taunting cackled rocketed off the walls, though he could not locate its source. "Poor, poor Jack." He could almost hear her breathe against his ear, though he knew that she wasn't there. "If there was only someone who loved you."
Against his bare feet lay a pile of icy shards, so tiny that it resembled powder. Just little over to its left, a wide, circle-shaped expanse, vaguely resembling a lake. Its entire surface was rough and frozen, a glimmering white sheen that was too opaque for him to see through.
He turned back to the pile of icy shards, stacked so high that it looked like a mini mountain in his narrow prison of ice.
"The task that I had given you had better be completed before I return, or else…"
He reached out towards the pile of shards, but hissed the minute his finger brushed against it. He drew his hand back towards himself and found that a blob of blood had appeared on his skin, streaking down into a red puddle on the ground. He eyed the glittering heap, sitting so innocently. He bit his lip, and reached once again, more carefully this time as not to cut his hands. He managed to get one of ice shard and he stared down at the flat, frozen surface of lake, his stomach churning uncomfortably as he did. There was no way he was going to able to finish this in time.
When he jerked awake from his strange shimmering dream, he was surprised to find himself not submerged in the water tank, but lying curled up in the floor of narrow, dark cell. It was cramped, such that he couldn't even stretch his legs out across the length of it, but it was better than having to go underwater again.
As he struggled to get himself upright, the boy noticed that set in front of him was a steaming plate, holding upon it a slab of cooked meat. Suspicious, he raised the plate up to his nose, sitting cross-legged as that was the only way he could sit in the cell. It smelled like…steak?
He licked his lips. Before he could stop himself, he had grabbed the piece with his hand and was devouring it ravenously.
Half-way through however, he stopped, for the hairs at the back of his neck had raised themselves. He slowly turned his head up to the top left corner before him. Though he could see nothing there, he had a distinct feeling that there was a camera there, and on the other side of camera were people watching.
He ripped another chunk off with his teeth as he stared at what he could not see, and hoped that they could see the animosity in his clear blue eyes.
~~~0~~~
District 13
A picture speaks a thousand words, so she wondered why she had to talk at all.
The idea, they told her, was they were going to find some way of hacking the Capitol television network. Once they did, they would broadcast a series of anti-Capitol, Pro-rebellion 'propos'.
"Short for Propaganda," it had been explained to her, which made sense in a way. The Capitol's method of flexing its muscle had always been through the media, so they'd strike back by using their own favourite weapon against them.
Before they could air any propos, however, the propos had to be filmed. And the idea had been that the first of the series would be a short clip of her of no longer than 5 seconds. They had a short script of just one line, which had been easily memorised. She was already to perform it.
Except that the directors of this tiny, five second segment couldn't agree on how she should say it.
"She should look enraged, infuriated, and say it like she wants to rip out their eyes and feast on their entrails!" declared the short, stout director, clearly impassioned by his idea. Elsa pulled a face, not that they were really paying attention, nor had she any say.
"Oh, please," the skinny director with dark green hair said, checking her nails as she did. This was probably the tenth time had done that already. "She should say it sort of calm, sort of deadpan. Like with one brow cocked and she can roll her eyes too. Everything in her should scream 'I'm so done with the Capitol, and you should be too, so join the Rebellion and all that." She stretched out her fingers and studied them from a distance, before curling them in front her face and scrutinising them more carefully."
"Err, guys?" the timid one of the trio interjected, a slight stutter in his voice as he spoke. "I think we should express a bit more caution in the way we say it? I mean, we want people to get excited about the rebellion and get riled against the Capitol, but we don't want them to go crazy and start burning down Capitol buildings." This earned him long looks from the two other directors. "Okay, maybe we want them to start burning stuff, but not all at once with no clear leadership?"
"I say we stop talking and start filming!" the small, ill-tempered one growled. "We can edit everything else in post-production."
"Nu-uh," the lady director objected. "If we wanna get the tone right, we need to set the direction from the front."
"Oh, dear." Was the timid one's teeth actually chattering? "I think these propos are just gonna fall apart."
Elsa just dropped her head in her hands, and thus messed up the hard work that her make-up artists had put into her intricate bun to waste. The directors didn't even notice because they were too distracted.
By dinner time, zero filming had been done and Elsa couldn't help but feel that she would have better spent her time washing dishes. As she spooned some of the mash on her tray into her mouth, she wondered what was going on in Calhoun's mind assigning her to this task. Sure, she was willing to be a symbol for the Rebellion, but – well! There ought to be a more efficient way than this.
"You're not looking too hot," was the greeting she received from Hiccup as he sat down across her. Noting her dry look at him, he said with a chuckle, "Sorry, couldn't resist the pun. But you do look a little out of it."
She let out a huff of exasperation. "It's nothing really. Just frustrated by my superiors, that's all."
"I feel you." Hiccup nodded. "There are always these guys who come interrupt the work that Valka and I are doing. Super annoying."
It was kind of their thing now to sit at the back table of the canteen – 'their' meaning herself, Hiccup and Ralph. Sometimes Hiro dropped by, but that had only happened once or twice. For such a young boy, he was constantly at work. Well, no one of any age was excused from work in District 13, nor should they be, with a war coming. The girl from District 5 was never to be seen. By herself, at least, since Ralph did occasionally provide updates about her, which meant that the fearsome archer was around somewhere.
Speaking of the giant hunk of a boy from District 11, he was in quite a thoughtful mood as he set his own tray down by those of his dinner-mates, but he said it was nothing when Hiccup inquired why. It wasn't really all that surprising for them to be closed-lipped about work, because all their assignments were of largely confidential nature. But most of the time, they liked to share the bare bones at least, like how they felt and how much they loved or hated the task of the day. It was odd of Ralph not to say anything, when he seemed so exhausted from his training today.
It was only after the gangly young lad had departed did Ralph speak. As he did, he leaned towards her, almost overturning the table in his anxiousness. "Hey," his tone was low, like he didn't want to be overheard. "You're from District 12, right?"
She nodded, puzzled. It should have been very well known the district of her origin. After all, wasn't 'The Snow Queen' title tagged next to the 'of District 12' lineall the time?
"Just checking." Ralph seemed to have read her mind. He was glancing about the barracks canteen in a rather suspicious manner. "I was wondering – well, I dunno, but -"
The more he spoke, the more perplexed Elsa became. "What is it?"
"It's just, well,-" he scratched his head "-okay, I'm not really supposed to talk about this, but there's this guy – a new refugee – who's come in from District 12. He's not exactly in the best state of mind, but he's being fixed up. Just wondered if you knew him, you know, since your district's pretty small after all."
The second he said 'District 12' her interest was piqued. From her short time in District 13, she had not encountered anyone from her old district and had pretty much concluded that no one in there had known anything about District 13, or the Rebellion. Apparently, she had been proven wrong.
"Do you know his name?" Her soft voice matched his own.
"It was pretty tricky." Ralph made a face. "Like Chris? Christopher? No, not that. It's like a shorter version of Christopher, like Christo, or something."
Her jaw fell open. "Wait – Kristoff?"
"Yeah." The big guy beamed. "Yeah, that's the name. Kris-hoff. Roff. Toff. Whatever."
"I know him," she gasped, her eyes huge and her heart racing. Turning to the soldier, Elsa asked, "Could you let me see him?" She noted his hesitation, so she added, "Please, Ralph. It'd mean a lot to me if you did."
He seemed reluctant, let out an uneasy exhale. Her pleading expression must have done something, though, for he eventually sighed and answered, "Alright, but you'll have to meet me at the infirmary at tonight, during reflections period."
She nodded.
At 2200, she snuck out of her sleeping chambers – still the cryo-proofed rooms as before – and headed down the infirmary. If anyone caught her along the way, her excuse would be a vicious headache. All the same, she avoided people. She didn't want to accidentally get Ralph into trouble when he was doing her such a huge favour.
When she entered the infirmary, she was glad to find most of the patients were already sleeping and the number of staff thinned considerably for the night shift. She moved quietly past the beds, glad that her ice-cape was handy in dulling the gleam of her body suit. She didn't want call any unnecessary attention to herself.
She found Ralph waiting for her at the entrance to the isolation rooms. Those needed special codes for access. Fortunately, the large boy possessed them, being one of the guards stationed in the area, so he took them through without any fuss.
When she passed the dark-lit rooms, Elsa couldn't help but feel an odd sense of déjà vu. She wondered if this was the place that she had been treated for her injuries after coming out of the Games. What havoc she must have wreaked.
"Here's the one," Ralph said finally, drawing up to one of the doors that looked identical to rest. He glanced at her. "You ready?"
She swallowed before nodding.
Ralph placed his hand on the keypad, and then door slid open. Elsa threaded slowly into the room, gazing down on the battered, bruised patient. He was hooked up to more tubes than she had ever seen in her life, to the point that it was a bit difficult to weave her way around them. The injuries and bandages had changed his appearance, but there was enough of the original for her to know for sure.
His eyes were closed and his body was slumped back against the bed. Part of her told her that she should leave him to rest, but the loneliness she had felt back when confined in the thermostatic enclosure returned. Even the metal suit that allowed her to access the outside world had been suffocating as of late. She was eager to have a slice of the past, even if just be in the form of wounded old friend.
She took one of his rough hands in between her metal-laced one's and called gently, "Kristoff?"
The boy stirred and gradually, his eyes did open themselves. They only got wider when they fell upon her, where even in shiny suit, her yellow-gold braid was unmistakable. "Elsa?" He tried to sit up and she reached out to help him. "But…you're…you can't-"
"I'm not dead," she assured him, chuckling a little at his bewilderment. "What happened in the Arena was a cover-up. The rebellion helped us escape." She nodded at the big blocky boy watching behind. "Ralph's one of us too."
"But how?" Kristoff's eyes dropped down to her metal gauntlets. "And your hands! They're all – what's wrong with them?"
"It's just a covering. Underneath I'm still all skin and bones," she told him lightly. There was a joy in her that she couldn't express at the sight of a familiar face, and she felt like she could hug the boy if he didn't seem so fragile right now.
A rather important thought suddenly came to mind and Elsa drew herself nearer to the blonde boy. "Kristoff." Her voice was thick with worry, squeezing his hand unconsciously as she did. "Where's Anna?"
~~~0~~~
She cast a suspicious glance towards the robot, then down to its owner. "This automaton was not granted access into these labs."
"Baymax needs to accompany me twenty-four-seven. Doctor's orders," the boy in the chair insisted. "It wouldn't be very helpful if I fainted again, would it?"
The lieutenant didn't like the answer, but grudgingly, she supposed it was better than introducing another human into the labs.
"I am equipped with many life-saving programmes," the bloated white monstrosity informed her in a pleasant, artificial tone, "such as Defibrillation, Epinephrine Injection, Wound-dressing and Breathing Exercises." Its perfectly circular eyes blink themselves into a straight line, before opening towards her again. "Would you like a demonstration?"
"No," Calhoun answered sharply. She never did like mechanical creatures, not even back in the Capitol. There was some about artificial intelligence that rubbed her the wrong way.
The robot, unfortunately did not seem offended.
The lieutenant tossed her pale fringe from her eyes, sniffing warily as she spoke to the young engineer, "Keep your marshmallow in line and clear his memory banks prior to leaving this lab."
"Yes, m'am," Hiro answered, but his attention was no longer on her. His head was dipped down towards the screen before him, where dozens of red squares were on display before them.
"We're starting in five," another technician across the lab yelled. Everyone was already hunched over their seats, bodies curved towards their respective devices, be them wires, holo-computers, tablets.
The teenager seated next to her grabbed his earphones and shoved them over his spikey-head.
"Hypnos terminal fully-charged," someone in the far end of room called out.
"Power-receptors are online and ready to bust," another added.
"We trigger the sync on my mark," Hiro ordered through his mike. His hand was poised over a virtual control projected by his holo-screen. Calhoun didn't know what it was, because the boy didn't tell her and frankly, she didn't care as long as it worked. She straightened her posture, lifted her chin high and continued her observation of proceedings with a cool expression. Inwardly, her heart clenched.
If this didn't work and the Capitol caught wind, it might be the end of the Rebellion, and every before it started.
"5,4-"
Her fist clenched by her side.
"-3,2-"
The tension was so thick one could slice it.
"-1."
Hroooommm!
Zhrrraaannnggg!
The sync had gone live.
Silence reigned over the lab as the researchers, technicians and engineers stared at their devices with bated breath; praying that the program didn't collapse on itself. And if didn't collapse, that it would be strong enough to fly across the country to the Capitol. And if did reach the Capitol, that it would break through navigate the Capitol's extensive virtual network successfully. And if it did navigate it successfully, that it would succeed in breaking through the firewalls. And if it did break through the firewalls, that it wouldn't sound of any alarms, and the Capitol wouldn't notice. And if the Capitol didn't notice, that it would latch onto the core memory of the Capitol, replicate it, and send all of its information right back to District 13 – in real time.
They waited. And they waited.
And after a while, the various researchers, technicians and engineers stopped staring at their own readings and opted instead to stare at their young leader, situated on the raised dais above them. His own eyes were glued to his holo-projector, fixed upon the stubborn squares of red glaring back at him. His thin face was pinched and his jaw was clenched as he waited.
And he waited.
"Your heart rate has accelerated abruptly," the robots told him, his normally soft voice echoing throughout the still environment. "I will scan you for the cause now." A second later. "Scan complete. There are raised levels of adrenaline in your system, though a physiological cause seems unlikely due to the lack of trauma or deterioration in your current condition. Shall I-"
"Shush, Baymax," was the boy's curt interjection as he continued to look intently before at the screen. "Not now."
The automaton fortunately knew how to follow orders. Otherwise, Calhoun would have blasted the voice box off that unnaturally poofy creation. Her own nerves were strung tight as they were.
The wave of red over the screen blared to their faces as the progress bar in the corner of the screen continued to displaying wavy lines – still loading. Not a tap of a foot, nor a huff of a breath, nor the flit of a blink, was heard.
They waited.
And waited.
And then suddenly! One of the boxes turned green.
The collective gasp echoed, but then was hushed as all noted that it was the only one that turned. In the sea of red boxes – still unconnected regions of the Capitol network – it still meant nothing.
The boy bit his lip so hard that it began to bleed. It was a wonder that the nurse robot failed to comment on it.
Then suddenly, another box became green.
And another. And another. And yet another! And then suddenly, the crimson wall was sheathed by an emerald hue, and cries of surprise rang out as the entire image before Hiro was washed in green. Only green.
There was a leap to the feet. There was a punch in the air. "It's through!"
"It's through!" someone echoed.
"We're through!"
"We're in the Capitol!"
"WE'VE DONE IT!"
Triumph resounded through the lab. Hands were clasped and congratulations were exchanged. The boy removed the headphones over his head and sighed. His heart rate had decreased, his robot companion informed him, and he just smiled tiredly as leaned back into his chair.
The only one who was not caught in the wind of success was the lieutenant. Her eyes were narrowed as she bellowed, "GET A GRIP ON YOURSELVES, YOU PUNY MUD MELONS!"
The stunned crowd whipped toward the military official, who's fearsome expression melts the sweetness of victory instantly.
"We haven't tested it yet," Calhoun growled through grit-teeth. She turned expectantly towards the young programmer. "Search for something on the network. Something classified."
The boy blinked at her request, then began to ponder. He then pulled up the interface for his holo-computer. Typing rapidly into it, his request was processed by his programme, which started emitting a faint hum.
A pile of photographs to appear on the holographic screen, of a man with greyed hair and long prominent nose. A number of research papers began to open up along the screen as well, with some images of strange-looking designs, odd photographs, a number of official documents and coded text.
Calhoun breathed out the name as she realised what Hiro had typed. "Robert Callaghan."
The boy nodded.
The last of the 'Guardians' of Panem to die other than Lotso, whose fate had always been a closely guarded secret. While history texts would tell of how Panem's robotic pioneer had passed away peacefully from old age, Calhoun had discovered during her tenure as the Head of the Capitol's Underground that the truth wasn't the slightest bit close. Due to his connections with Panem's original founder, Callaghan had the capability and standing to lead Panem as much as Lotso did. If Lotso had wanted the power consolidated in his hands and his alone, steps had to be taken to ensure that Callaghan would never be able to amass any political support for himself. So he had the scientist spirited away to a secret location, where he would live in total luxury and under total supervision – a comfortable prison, in a sense.
She had never been able to find out what happened to him, not even as the Head of the Undergrounds. The secret had been too close to President Lotso' heart for such ready access. According to these files that Hamada had produced, though, it appeared that confinement had driven the man to madness and he had committed suicide - by ingesting a tube of his own created nanites.
"It seems that your project is indeed a success, Soldier Hamada," she told the boy at last. There was only the slightest hint of a smile at the corner of her lip. "Well done."
The boy didn't smile back. He only nodded in thanks, before turning to his robot companion. The huggable marshmallow man then proceeded to examine the bleeding on his lip, much to the young genius' chagrin.
On hearing her statement, the other staff resumed their celebration, some even dancing on the steps in their elation. Calhoun allowed them the shedding of decorum just for now. Come tomorrow, she expected everyone to be the epitome of professionalism once more.
She had no intention of joining the festivities, so she headed out of the lab, fully intending to report the progress to the President. With the hacking of the Capitol's network complete, and the Capitol still in the dark of their deed, no doubt now was the optimum time to operate. After their prime operator in the Districts, Man-in-the-Moon, dead, and the status of 'Wild Card' unknown, this might be their only shot.
Her way was however interrupted by a uniformed subordinate, who saluted her and said, "M'am, there's someone who wants to see you desperately and it cannot wait."
"Is it the President?"
"Uh, no, but-"
"Then it can wait," was Calhoun's crisp answer as she took a turn down the corner –
-and ran straight into the armoured form that was the Snow Queen herself.
The girl seemed pale - paler than her frost-skinned self usually was. She was trembling even, and her metal-laced fingers were clenched into fists. She was glaring at Calhoun.
"Soldier Arendelle," the Lieutenant greeted with a wary frown as she appraised the one in question. "You seem troubled."
"Lieutenant," the mutant spat out, not the slightest smidgen of respect. Not even a salute. Shameful. "You lied to me."
Calhoun's face was unreadable. "Perhaps you would like to be more specific."
"You told me-" her voice was shaking, but not with fear. No, no, there was agitation, rage "-you promised that in exchange of me being your 'Snow Queen', my sister would be protected
and brought to District 13 at the earliest opportunity."
She nodded slowly as her hand went furtively to her holster.
"So, then." Elsa's eyes flashed viciously. "Why wasn't I told that my sister had been taken captive by the Capitol itself?"
"Millions of innocents have been taken captive by the Capitol before, Soldier Arendelle," Calhoun replied in coolly, undo the lock that held her gun in place, all while pretending she was just placing her hand on her hip. "If we strove to inform all their relations about it, it would be a waste of resources and manpower." She pushed past the girl roughly. "Now, excuse me. I have work to do."
"NO!"
The temperature of the hallway took an unexpected plummet, and all in the vicinity paused from their activity just to notice such. That included the lieutenant, who cautiously spun herself around to face the blonde teenager. Her two hands were clenched by her side, a blue luminosity surrounding them.
Through halting breaths, the girl said – or rather demanded, "You said that you would keep my sister safe. You have to rescue her."
"Rescue her?" Calhoun repeated, with a disgusted expression. Her finger was curled around the trigger now. "From the Capitol? Are you mad? Do you know how much resources that would take? Not to mention the risks?"
"You said that you would keep her safe," Elsa demanded stubbornly, her foot pressed firmly on the ground. Whether it was intentional or not, there was a growing patch of ice around it. "Or perhaps you had never planned on fulfilling my conditions."
The Lieutenant's face hardened. She didn't to do it; use a firearm against a subordinate, even less the 'Snow Queen'. For all her contributions to District 13, Calhoun's loyalty was still being questioned constantly. After all, she had fought so valiantly against them once. She couldn't afford such a scandal attached to her name, not in times like these. "We are in a time of war, Soldier. Perhaps if you look above your own selfish desires, you'd realise that a squad of highly-trained soldiers - with their own loved ones – is not worth the possible survival of a civilian who has no use pertaining to the progress of the Rebellion."
The girl's mouth opened to argue, but she stopped short. "What do you mean," she asked stiffly, "'possible survival'?"
"There's nothing that the Capitol could possibly want from your sister," Calhoun informed her, straightforward without filter. "There's no reason that they'd keep her alive."
The very thought of that seemed to have stricken the young mutant rather hard. Her anger warped into denial. "But-but-" she scrunched her face up "-it can't be. It can't be. They wouldn't – they won't-"
"I know the Capitol. I know what they do." It was harsh, but it was necessary. The District 12 girl needed to snap out of it. They were at war, for heavens' sake! Now was not the time for irrational behaviour. She was a harsh woman, but she didn't want to shoot the girl. Better a cruel word than a bullet. "Your sister never stood a chance."
Those words seemed to have broken through the girl, but it was not the way that the Lieutenant wanted. The sapphire blue orbs darted to her, piercing her, and then the girl raised her arm. "No."
"No?" Calhoun repeated, bemused.
The temperature fell further, sending a shiver down the Lieutenant's spine. "We are saving my sister, like you agreed before."
"She's de-"
"She's not!" The burst of a shout felt like a puff of wind, and it was icy. The armour over the girl's form was rattling as she hissed, "Until I find her body myself, Anna's not dead. So either you help me save her, or I swear to you, I will bring down the very roof of this hallway down on our-"
The revolver was just inches out of the holster when Elsa was cut off abruptly by the fizzling of electricity. A shriek of shock was heard, and indeed, shocked the girl was by her own armour.
In a second, her unexpected spasms came to a halt. The girl crumbled to the ground, out cold. Ironically, that took the cold away, and soon the hallway had returned to normal temperatures.
Calhoun glanced down to the entrance of the labs, where the wheelchair carrying the tech prodigy sat. The young genius had a small remote in his hand when he gazed regretfully down to the girl. He let out a long sigh. "Sorry about that."
The unconscious form didn't respond.
The Lieutenant let out a contemptuous sniff. "I thought you said the suit could contain her powers."
"It helps align her powers more with her logical thought than her emotions," Hiro corrected her, slotting the small device back into the wrist-band like device on his arm. "It doesn't stop her from translating her emotions into logical thought."
Calhoun had no idea what he was saying, and frankly, she didn't care. To two soldiers standing guard – useless, they had been – she ordered, "Take her to the detention centre. Ensure that it's fit to contain her."
"Yes, m'am." The two subordinates hurried over to the limp form on the ground, prepared to scoop the armoured arms over their own.
The Lieutenant then swept around, pace quick as she made it for her next destination. There was a war coming around, and it did not like to be kept waiting.
~~~0~~~
S/N:
It's kind of weird that when I started the first Guardian Games, Rapunzel's parents didn't even have names yet. Now, after Tangled: The Series, they do. So weird.
The directors of Elsa's 'propos' are a cameo of another set of characters from another movie that had been cameoed here before. Have fun guessing.
If you find Jack's portion confusing, well, I can only tell you that Jack does too. That and I'm a pretty eh writer. So, yeah.
When it comes to Anna, Elsa is not very rational.
~~~0~~~
A/N:
Hi everyone. Long time no see.
Just want to let you guys know that I've all your reviews, and I appreciate them loads even if I haven't managed to reply the reviews like I used to do. It's nice to know that some people read this even though it's been hard for me to update it. Partly writer's block, partly from life. Still, if you're still around, just want to let you know that it makes me glad that you're still here. If you ain't, then, well, you won't see this anyway.
Anyway, since I've been getting really busy recently, I don't think I'll be able to answer reviews individually anymore, but do know that every little notes left behind is still appreciated greatly all the same, and believe it or not, has some factor to motivating me to update (so you can thank that random Guest from Jan 27).
Also, you may notice that the formatting for this chapter may be a little different from before. Why? Because I'm too lazy to keep editing the formatting anymore. If you didn't notice anything, then all is weeeeeellllllll.
Byeeeeeeeeee.